


Wish I Knew You

by cousinrayray



Series: Rick'n'Morty Songfic Train [4]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Melancholy, Oral Sex, Rooftops, Songfic, Weed Smoking, a dash of humor hopefully, handjobs, that's the word for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 15:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14138607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cousinrayray/pseuds/cousinrayray
Summary: Tiny Rick was an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and he was confusing and annoying, and he was definitely not hot. And, honestly, if Morty had ever bothered to think about it at all, he probably would have run.A chewable little chunk of fic. Little bit of sweet, little bit of sad, little bit of bud and booze. Songfic's courtesy of that song that's been everywhere, you know the one, by The Revivalists.





	Wish I Knew You

**Author's Note:**

> Oh how it's been so long, I'm so sorry I've been gone, I've been busy not writing shit and getting HIGH. 
> 
> (I already told you, I love that second Panic! album. No shame)
> 
> Anyway, I really am sorry. I'm a flighty motherfucker and there's no telling how long my attention span will stick to any one thing. I wanted to come back with some epic behemoth of a fic to justify my absence but, well, this is all I have to offer, lol. I will do my best to at least reply to comments before I disappear. I might not disappear at all, who knows? I sure don't. 
> 
> I love you guys though, never doubt xo
> 
> Let's get this show on the road. This song is an ear worm and it's been everywhere and I really like the feel of it. It practically cried out to involve young Rick in some fashion or another, obviously, so I'm giving Tiny Rick a go. 
> 
> Enjoy guys

Morty could admit that when Rick ( _Tiny_ Rick, he reminded himself, the distinction feeling very important after recent events) suddenly pulled him into the school bathroom, he had been… what, naíve enough? Sane enough? Wrong enough, either way, to expect some word salad-y monologue about hunting vampires, or how stupid/great junior high was, or how drunk Rick was right now, or whatever. 

Instead, Rick had glanced furtively around the empty restroom, eyes wide as saucers and shining crazily under the fluorescent lights. Then, with the same manic energy he had said everything since becoming Tiny Rick, he asked, “Hey Morty, w-wanna, wanna see something cool?” 

That was never a good lead up when it came to Rick, but Morty had nodded uneasily all the same and Rick had lurched forward, and before Morty could do more than begin to flinch at the sudden attack, there were hands pressing on either side of his face and pulling him closer and a pair of lips were smashing against his. He opened his eyes, having closed them in the flinch, and registered that yes, he was being kissed, and quite forcefully at that, by a spastic, big-headed, troll-doll-haired weirdo that was technically still his grandfather. 

The mouth against his was wet and sort of nice once the force was dialed back slightly and there was this lip nibbling going on that was very intriguing, but regardless it was all a bucketful of obviously not ok, and Morty reeled back with a gasping, panicked, “Whoa, what- what- Shit. Wait. What?” that hopefully conveyed his utter loss at this turn of events. 

Rick allowed himself to be pushed back, but stayed much closer than standard personal boundary limits permitted, and grinned alarmingly at him. His weirdly-still-kinda-gravely voice put on a petulant tone as he wheedled, “C’mon, M-Morty, don't make it weird. Being a teenager is like trippin’ balls crazy with- with hormones and shit. I got _needs_ , man,” he added with an unabashed eyebrow waggle. “And it's not- you're not exactly pulling tail, here, otherwise. What have you got to lose?” 

It seemed to Morty like he probably had a lot of things to lose, things like morality and self-worth and a significant chunk of his sanity, assuming they were even on the same page here, which was doubtful. But he was too baffled to put any of that into words so he just stood there gaping. Rick sidled in closer, and Morty realized with a jolt that he actually had the beginnings of erection about a half-second before Rick’s beanpole leg inserted itself between his thighs and pressed against it, his hands sliding onto Morty’s hips. 

“Besides,” he murmured way too close to his ear, and Morty blinked in shock, still working on his goldfish impression, “S’no denying h-how fucking hot it is, am I right?” 

And then he licked Morty. Fucking _licked_ him. Right on the fucking ear. Morty shivered, still blinking, wondering feebly if he would ever again have enough of a brain to pull together a complete sentence or if he was stuck like this now. He could practically feel his pupils dilating. 

“I- I, uh. Oh… d-damn it.”

And that was how Morty ended up getting a handjob from his teen grandfather in a school bathroom stall. 

 

Rick wasn't good-looking. Old Rick certainly wasn't, being, well, old as fuck and all. And Tiny Rick honestly wasn't really, either. His head was so freaking big it was alarming, his eyes were blue and bulgey, he was skinny and moved around like a creepy spider on amphetamines, and generally looked and acted like some sort of alien. Morty could honestly say that he had never found him attractive. 

But, well, there seemed to be some sort of weird alchemy going on, where the more they did the more attractive Rick became, like there was some physics equation that said each occasion of getting off with a person resulted in an proportional increase of hotness of said person. It was like beer goggles, except with just sex and no beer. Sex goggles. 

Maybe he was overthinking it. 

Either way, he found himself way too accepting and eager to engage Rick in this newest insanity. The way those bulgey eyes went half-lidded as those lips wrapped around his cock made his stomach crawl with want. That stupid hair was perfect for grabbing and holding onto and, as things heated up in a janitor’s closet, tugging hard as he thrust relentlessly, uncontrollably into an eager mouth. Rick moaned around him, sucking like he had never tasted anything half as good and Morty had definitely never felt anything a tenth as good and as he felt his balls tighten Rick pulled off with a wet pop and took him in his pale, creepy, perfect fucking fingers and jerked him off until he came with a gasp all over that smirking, sweaty, disheveled face. And it was all hot as balls, and Rick was hot as fuck, hot as the goddamn sun. And as soon as Morty regained muscle control he reached for Rick and shoved his hand down his pants to return the favor, and it was almost surprising to him that he wasn't burned. 

 

Tiny Rick had a thing for rooftops. He also had a thing for breaking and entering. It all amounted to him bursting into Morty’s room in the middle of the night on a regular basis (which wasn't _new_ behavior, exactly, though Morty _had_ hoped that the temporary hiatus on space adventures might correlate to more undisturbed sleep, but no luck) and cajoling him into climbing out his bedroom window and down the tree like they were the fucking Little Rascals. Then they'd go on a bizarrely normative if still disreputable kind of adventure skulking through the night, finding their way to the tops of businesses, the library, whatever, even the stupid school. 

Morty didn't really get the appeal. Some nights Rick would scurry around like a nocturnal squirrel, darting between air conditioning units and ventilation ducts, jabbering excitedly. Others he’d sit with his legs swinging over the ledge of the building, apparently just taking in the view while Morty sat as close as he dared, trying to will away his nervous vertigo. 

He started bringing joints with him, and he'd light them up and pass them to Morty until the buzz made him forget his nerves and join Rick at the ledge. And sometimes they just sat quietly together like that under the night sky and it was nice in a way that sat oddly in Morty’s chest. 

But whenever fingers crept over to Morty’s groin he drew the line. He wasn't going to be killed or crippled for life by orgasming himself off the edge of a building. And then Rick would pout and let himself be led a few yards back to relative safety and they'd get each other off on a grimy rooftop, ugly and stark and strangely lovely in all it's weird shapes and shadows. 

 

“That sneaky son of a bitch” Summer said with admiration, shaking her head. This was her opening statement after striding into Morty’s room mere seconds after Tiny Rick had left it. Morty was red-faced and recovering from a truly spectacular handjob and would surely be panicking more if he could only catch his breath. 

“W-what?”

“Well, it just figures he would think of a way around the whole, you know, issue, doesn't it?”

“W- I mean- I don't think that's the- that _this_ is the reason he did this? And w-wait, what issue?” He was so taken aback he didn't know what he was saying, _couldn't_ know what he was saying, except he was basically admitting he was fooling around with Tiny Rick and had he lost his fucking mind?

Summer gave him a look. “Oh I don't know, like, the hugely gross, not to mention totally immoral age gap? I mean, that's what was stopping you guys and your thing before, right? At least, I always figured it was for Rick. He's kind of a decent guy, you know, in his own way. I can totally see him wanting to wait till you're eighteen.” 

“Holy- what are you talking about?? There's no- there was no _thing_!”

“Morty, c’mon, don't act dumb. Dumb- _er_. Seriously? Rick’s been like, practically grooming you for ages, which would be really alarming except you've been grossly drooling after him for like even longer, so…” She trailed off into a shrug, inspecting her nails nonchalantly. Morty stared at her in stunned horror, wondering why apparently his entire family was intent on shattering his sanity, one blow at a time. 

“Anyway, yeah, sooo not surprised at the teen-Rick-cest thing, old news, gross choices already made, have fun and be safe.” 

And with that she blew out of the room. 

So of course, then this happened, and it was all Summer’s fault:

“Hey, Rick”

“Hey, Morty,” Rick replied, cracking a grin at his wit as he burrowed insistently into Morty’s neck. The kisses he left on it were open-mouthed and lewd, and Morty shivered as he tried valiantly to keep his thoughts together long enough to speak. Maybe he should have waited until a moment where they weren't fooling around, but those were few and far between. 

“Rick,” he began again. “Listen, this- you didn't do this just so you could do _this_ , right?” The question was nonsensically vague, but at least served the purpose of annoying Rick enough to get him to stop, pull back, and look at him. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Tiny Rick. You- did you- you didn't put yourself into a teen clone j-just so we could, um, do this stuff together, right?”

Rick’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a brief instant Morty thought he could see the man inside, a flit of cold calculation. His mouth ran dry even as he watched Rick give an inelegant snort and grin at him, drawling, “Nah, Morty, I just- I just did it for shits. Vampire hunting and shit, you know?” He cocked his head at him, then rolled his eyes and gave Morty’s neck a playful bite. 

“Not gonna lie, though, this- this is a pretty sweet side benefit. Don't ya think?”

His voice had changed again, slipping subtly backwards and exposing just a hint of insecurity, of teenage faux-casualness. It made Morty swallow down something undefined, smile at him and kiss him instead of answering. 

 

It took Morty an embarrassingly long time to realize he had no idea exactly who he was fooling around with (in a relationship with?). Glimpses of what he considered “old Rick” were rare. Or maybe he had it all wrong and Tiny Rick wasn't a split-personality-type thing so much as a refiltering, just the same Rick through the lens of a different body with different hormones. 

It felt like an entirely different person though. He had known this on some level, had used it as a vague justification for what the were doing, but at times it really hit him, the difference, and left him breathless. 

One night he followed Rick up onto the roof of the county courthouse and was astonished to find himself walking into a scene straight out of some strange, post-apocalyptic romance novel. There was a nest of scavenged blankets piled on the ground, some, he could tell, taken from their house, others from God knows where, and scattered around were mismatched, honest-to-god candles. He could see the weird record player thing old Rick had cobbled together a couple months back (he had claimed it ran off of dark energy and enhanced the sound quality by 6000%) sitting off to the side, and as Morty stepped closer he even noticed a beat-up utility bucket full of ice with, he couldn't believe it, two forties chilling inside. 

A incredulous grin spread across his face, and he turned back to ask Rick what kind of cheesy nonsense he was playing at, but then he caught the look on Rick’s face. There was a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but he was staring at Morty almost anxiously, shuffling slightly from foot to foot, and the whole picture suddenly seemed so terribly earnest Morty felt the laughter die in his throat, felt knocked off-balance. 

He cleared his throat. “S-so, uh, what’s- what's all this for, Rick?” he asked, trying for a light tone, smiling uncertainly. 

His unease seemed to bolster Rick, who stopped fidgeting and smiled dangerously at him. “What do you think, Morty?” he purred, coming up close to him and resting his hands on Morty’s hips, thumbs moving idily. 

Morty’s stomach lurched with anticipation, well-trained, and his voice was decidedly breathier when he replied, “Well- I- I figure I know the gist of th-the plan.” His mouth quirked suggestively, and Rick smirked in turn. “But, um, I’m kinda- you’ve lost me with, uh, all- all this…” He trailed off in confusion, gesturing vaguely at the set-up, which must have taken some amount of planning and was so bizarre he wasn't really sure he was awake. 

Rick looked at him for a moment, seeming to chew over his words. “Well… I…,” he began surprisingly quietly, then shook his head a little. “I figured you- you'd never be down to fuck if I didn't throw some- some romantic bullshit together for you. Virgins are- they tend to- to go nuts for this kinda sappy bullshit,” he finished in a more typical smug tone, squeezing his fingers teasingly into Morty’s sides. 

Morty’s eyes flew wide. He wasn't sure what was the most astonishing, that Rick planned to actually have full-blown intercourse on this fucking roof, that he thought Morty required this kinda tableau to do it with him, or that he would actually bother set it all up, just because he thought Morty needed it. He swallowed convulsively a few times, desperately trying to think of something to say, something casual or witty or flirty. Anything. 

“So,” Rick prompted after a few seconds, eyeing him, “Uh, is it working?”

Morty gave up on speaking for the moment and just nodded, and Rick grinned widely and tackled him into the pile of blankets. 

There had never been much build-up or foreplay in their activities, so Morty was surprised when nearly half an hour later they were still mostly clothed, trading sips from the second bottle of Olde English 800 and giggling at… something, he couldn't remember, though the fact that he was apparently being wooed with fucking Olde English was a likely candidate. Then Rick slumped dramatically against him and Morty shoved him off good-naturedly and his fluffy bobble head just happened to face-plant directly into his crotch. Morty laughed harder as he nuzzled inwards like a dog, and then that laugh turned into a groan when Rick took the zipper of his jeans between his teeth and began to tug it down, meeting his eyes with a cheeky wink. 

His head was swimming, and it seemed like he blinked and suddenly he was naked, pants and underwear discarded and there was that mouth, that wonderful clever mouth teasing his cock, sloppy and eager, always so fucking eager, Jesus Christ. He was so hard and he couldn't even remember when he had gotten hard, but as he thrust disjointedly into Rick’s mouth, pinned down by hands on his hips, things quickly reached a critical level. He vaguely remembered something about actual sex, full-blown sex, and just as he began to wonder if Rick was just going to suck him off instead, which would be fine, more than fine, honestly, Rick pulled away from him. 

Morty moaned. “F-fuck. Jesus, Rick, what's- what's up?” he asked blearily, trying not to sound put out by the sudden cessation. With effort he raised his head to the sound of rustling and saw Rick hastily shucking off his own clothes. And then they were both naked, and that meant the sex was most likely still happening, which was equal parts exciting and alarming. But mostly he was caught up in staring at Rick’s body, on full display for the first time. He was narrow and skinny, all lines and angles as expected, and somehow it highlighted the relatively soft roundness of his face as he grinned down at Morty. 

Before Morty could come to a conclusion about the emotions inspired by the sight, Rick fished around the nest of blankets and retrieved a small plastic bottle, which he tossed over to Morty, laughing when Morty fumbled it in his nerves. Morty looked down at the lubricant he was suddenly holding, face on fire and already feeling overwhelmed and stupidly lost. 

“I- ah- um, w-what am I doing with this?” he garbled. Fuck, he could feel his fucking ears burning. Rick snickered at him. 

“What do you think, dumbass? C’mon, o-open me up.”

Morty's eyes shot to Rick in time to catch the blush spreading over the teen’s face, and it sent a startling pulse of warmth into his chest. “I- I mean, you know, if- if you want to,” Rick added in a tone that was decidedly not nonchalant, though it was striving for it, and Morty had to lean forward and kiss him before he did or said or felt something irreparably stupid. 

“Yeah, that's- ok, yeah,” he said sheepishly as he broke away from the kiss. He took a deep breath and tried to focus through the hazes of alcohol and lust and nervousness. When he had found something approaching calmness, he began. 

The sounds Rick made as Morty cautiously fingered him open were out of this world, each gasp and moan punching its way through his lingering sense of awkwardness to stoke the coals low in his belly, reassuring him that even though he had little to no idea what he was doing, he must not be doing a completely terrible job at it. He was leaning over Rick, two fingers buried deep, and nearly choked with alarm when an incidental brush of his fingers made Rick arch and cry out like he had been electrocuted. He stopped moving, unsure, as Rick coughed and managed, “Ok, fuck, yeah, that's- that's it, we’re good, th-that's enough,” in a shaky voice, and Morty was confused and alarmed at the thought that somehow he had suddenly ruined everything and withdrew his hand with a frown. 

Rick caught his look and rolled his eyes as he lurched forward and pushed Morty down onto his back. “We’re not stopping, ya- you idjit. We’re starting,” he said with fond exasperation as he straddled Morty’s thighs just north of his erection. Morty stared at him as he shuffled around and leaned forward, then gasped as his aching, almost forgotten cock slid against Rick’s ass. Rick shivered and hummed, eyes closed, then muttered, “C’mon, slick yourself up, th-then hold it for me. This- it's a two person job, here, M-Morty.”

Morty fumbled to do as he said, then laid there, erection tightly in hand and struggling to remember to breath as Rick centered himself, then began to press down in slow, halting motions. He groaned helplessly at the teasing pressure against the head of his cock, threatening over and over to push through until suddenly, finally, it did. 

God, the sensation was unbelievable, and it was still just the very tip, and the noise Rick made, a loud, broken sound, was unbearable, and Morty was going to pop a blood vessel from the effort to remain still, to not thrust and come in the next five seconds. He gritted his teeth, his free hand squeezing hard on Rick's thigh. 

Rick’s eyes were closed, his face contorted with pain or pleasure or concentration as he slowly, so goddamn slowly began to slide further down, stopping and breathing harshly every few seconds. “M-move your hand,” he ground out, and Morty hastily got his hand out of the way and then with shocking swiftness Rick bore down and sank fully onto his cock. His back went rigid and Morty brought his hands up to support him without thinking, alarmed at the tremors he could feel shuddering through Rick’s body. 

“Are you- are you ok?” he choked out, trying to focus on something besides the insane pressure around his cock, and more than a little worried. Rick was panting between clenched teeth, his eyes squeezed shut, and his dick, Morty noted with a sinking feeling, was barely still hard at all, laying meekly between their stomachs. 

“Yeah,” Rick gasped with a hint of a laugh, “Its just- it's been- I w-wasn't expe- I-I'm out of practice, ok?” he finished somewhat indignantly. For a moment Morty had no idea what he was talking about, then he remembered that this was likely Rick’s first time, except it wasn't, it was just his first time in this body, because this wasn't his body, this was a new, virgin shell, and Morty shoved that line of thought away like it burned because it did, and he didn't want to think about any of that right now. 

He waited while Rick got his bearings, running his hands absently up and down his sides. Then Rick shifted, raised himself up the smallest amount before sinking back down, and they both groaned. Then he did it again, and then again, a bit more and a bit faster, and Morty was lost. 

It all came together so quickly, time leaping about like in a dream. Before he knew it Rick was practically slamming himself down onto his cock, fast and frantic with his head tipped back, and all Morty could do was gawp because he had never, ever, seen anything or felt anything even approaching this and it was scrambling his brain. His hips jerked up to meet Rick, desperate for every inch of contact, to get just that little bit deeper, even as he bit his lip furiously in an effort to stave off orgasm. Rick panted and tilted his head back down to look at him, and Morty was so arrested by the look in those blue, bulging, shining, oh Christ, fucking amazing eyes he almost faltered. 

“You- you're beautiful Morty. You're so fucking beautiful,” Rick whispered hoarsely, and Morty cried out as muscles clenched around his cock, his eyes falling shut because he couldn't bear it, he couldn't take the words and that look and the sensations he was drowning in. Rick leaned forward and began murmuring in his ear as he continued to grind down onto him. 

“You are, you know, you're- everything, you're fucking- fucking everything Morty, you- you're perfect- oh my God, so- so- fucking-”

He began moving faster than ever, erratic and almost convulsing, and Morty didn't even have time to wonder what the hell was going on before Rick shot back up and grabbed his own cock frantically, tugging it twice before going rigid with a harsh cry and exploding, come pattering down onto Morty’s stomach, his hips jerking so spastically Morty grabbed hold of him to keep them from being separated. His internal muscles were going absolutely nuts and Morty pounded blindly up into him, sweat stinging his eyes and something burning his foot but it was unimportant, everything was unimportant except for the orgasm that barreled through him, tearing out a gasp and a shout and possibly his entire spine. 

He collapsed back into the pile of blankets, breathing hard, feeling like a hard drive that had been wiped clean in some cataclysmic electrical surge. He might never think again. That was ok. That was an acceptable trade-off. 

Morty did, however, start thinking again, and his first thought was that something smelled terrible, and his foot really hurt. Like, a lot, a lot. He pushed a grumbling Rick off of him and saw with horror that at some point one of them had kicked over one of the stupid candles and now there was a steadily smouldering patch on the pile of blankets with his foot directly on top of it and, basically, their nest was on fire. He flung himself back with a yelp and once Rick noticed what was happening he started laughing his ass off as Morty cursed. While Morty was looking around wildly in a panic he grabbed the unfinished forty and unceremoniously dumped it on the patch, still laughing so hard he was almost choking. 

Crisis averted, Morty collapsed back down onto their soiled, filthy, partially-scorched pile, shoving Rick half-heartedly as he continued cackling at his expense before cracking and bursting into giggles of his own. Rick scooted closer to curl up next to him as they caught their breath and for awhile they just lay together, candles guttering in a breeze that would soon be chilly. The record player was hissing static, and Rick’s breath was soft and warm in his hair, his sweat-damp arm flung across Morty’s chest, and as they lay there on the dirty, lonely rooftop staring at the stars overhead it was the closest thing to perfect Morty had ever known. 

It snuck in quietly, almost unnoticeably, moments before they finally separated to gather up their things, the thought that he might be in love. 

 

Morty was certainly no genius, so he tried to give himself a pass for taking so long to accept that something was very wrong here. Summer had been on his case for ages, adamant that Tiny Rick had to go for the safety of “real Rick”, and though he did his best to ignore her even he could tell that the cracks were widening. His first impression had been right, they _were_ different people, and sometimes it became unnervingly apparent that even Tiny Rick himself had an increasingly shaky grasp on his real identity. 

The night after a frankly terrifying Sybil-esque guitar jam session he brought Morty up to a rooftop and they sat on the ledge together smoking quietly, Morty doing his best to tamp down the dread that grew inside him with every passing day. Rick seemed to pick up on the somber mood, giving Morty sidelong glances, though Morty didn't dare ask what he was thinking. 

“I- I wish I knew you, you know, before,” he said suddenly, quietly. Morty jerked to face him in surprise and confusion. Rick wasn't looking at him, he was staring ahead, at the buildings and lights and stars. 

Morty swallowed several times before he was able to reply, “You- you do know me, R-Rick. You knew me b-before, too.” He wasn't sure exactly what they were even talking about, just that it made his heart ache so badly he'd do anything to fix it, to make it stop. 

Rick smiled, lopsided and small, and didn't respond. He passed the joint to Morty without looking at him, but when Morty touched his shoulder hesitantly he turned and captured his mouth in a kiss, soft and sweet. 

Morty let this go on for a few seconds before he deepened it, turned it into something hot and desiring because he just couldn't bear it to be anything else right now. Rick acquiesced to the change with a low rumble in his throat, and then that was the end of soft sweetness. 

It was only later on, as he crawled back into bed at an ungodly early hour, that he realized he had actually, finally, let Rick get him off sitting on the ledge of a building, and it was so stupid, so stupid and dangerous of them, and then he couldn't help but cry, just a little. 

 

When it was over, and Rick, the old Rick (the _real_ Rick, he told himself fiercely) was prancing naked through his lab, dismembering clones, Morty felt hardly anything at all. It was like waking up from a dream, or sinking back into one. Either way it felt inevitable, some rebalancing of the universe. Just physics. 

He didn't _avoid_ Rick, per sé, but he wasn't especially eager for his company, and he supposed Rick noticed, and he tried not to wonder what Rick thought about it. He tried not to wonder if Rick even remembered. But one night, about a week after it all, Rick burst into his room and instead of dragging him into space he dragged him out the window, and Morty, heart in his throat, followed him. 

He let himself be led up to a rooftop, trying not to be surprised at the sight of Rick jimmying open locked windows and dragging his popping joints up a fire escape, apparently eschewing the portal gun. He tried not to be anything at all as he followed him to the ledge and sat down beside him, but he was lots of things, scared and confused and sad in a dull, bone-deep way. 

Rick pulled a joint from the inside pocket of his lab coat and lit it, took a deep drag, then passed it to Morty. Morty accepted it with hands that were trembling slightly, because he didn't know what was going on, because this was uncanny and eerie and if this was some kind of prank it would hurt so much and he _didn't know what was going on_ , damn it, he didn't know what was going to happen. 

But nothing happened. They passed the joint back and forth wordlessly, staring at the stars together, and it was almost the same except of course it wasn't, Rick was old, and there was just a bit more space between their bodies than there had been the other times. It was an acknowledgment and an answer to a question Morty hadn't dared ask, even to himself. 

As he smoked and looked and thought, the tension drained out of him little by little, and a bit of the loneliness did too, and it was strange and beautiful and not perfect, but it was all right. It was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Let me know how it was. I'm kinda curious to know if I seem rusty/different after my absence, or if it's all more or less the same. Writing got real hard for a while, then this thing just popped out of nowhere in less than a day. Go figure.
> 
> Btw, this fic officially marks over 100k words of Rick and Morty fanfiction! Hooray me!(?)


End file.
